


The White Lute

by Hino



Category: Pyre (Video Game)
Genre: Every main Nightwing appears at least once, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-01-04 10:07:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12166782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hino/pseuds/Hino
Summary: Inside the Blackwagon is a White Lute, owned by the Minstrel.He has a song for everyone.





	1. Rukey

The Blackwagon is rolling across the Jomeur Valley when Rukey pads up to the Minstrel. At first, he thinks the man is asleep, for his eyes are closed and his body is relaxed, but at his approach, Tariq sits up. “Did you need something, Sir?”

Rukey takes a seat beside the Minstrel’s foot, prompting the man to lean over slightly to look at him. “Nothin’ much, chum. Was just wondering if you’d play a song? Brighten up the afternoon and all that. These folk are looking pretty down in the dumps, if you ask me.”

Tariq makes a sound of understanding, and he gives a practice strum of the strings, making sure they are in tune. “Is there anything you perhaps desire to hear?”

There is a moment of thought from the Cur, and Tariq takes advantage of this moment to scratch Rukey behind the ears, hiding a smile as the tail of the creature begins to wag from side to side. “You have that tune, Night Howlers, right? That’ll get everyone up and awake.”

A nod from the Minstrel and the scratches stop, much to Rukey’s own disappointment. Another hesitant note, testing the air, and then Tariq starts up, strumming and plucking the notes. Although there are instruments that are not a Lute, somehow the Minstrel makes them appear alongside him, accompanying him with drumbeats and synths. Rukey grins and it seems the song has everyone in the Blackwagon feeling slightly better. The Moontouched Girl is dancing with Ti’zo, and Jodariel is tapping out the beat on the table while she plays cards with Hedwyn and Bertrude.

It is this that keeps the Minstrel playing until it is time for dinner, and they all filter into the Common Room to eat.


	2. Jodariel

Jodariel is sitting in the common room, mug of moonshine beside her as she idly polishes the clasp she has obtained for her service on the Bloodborder. The metal is dirty and scratched, and the Demon is so involved in the work that she does not notice the Minstrel take a seat at the table.

“I believe Big Bertrude may have some elixirs to help,” Tariq says, startling her. Jodariel turns to face him, and he tries to offer a smile in some attempt to smooth the situation over.

“No, I will be fine,” she answers. It seems as if she has some kind of polish that she is using. “But I would appreciate something to fill the silence.”

Tariq is already aware of the implications, plucking a few notes of the Lute to make sure that everything is ready for the inevitable request. “Would you perhaps enjoy a song to fill the silence as you work?”

A nod from Jodariel was all Tariq needed. He began to play, strumming a tune that he had picked up in the area. “A ballad for the Downside,” he said, before falling silent, letting the music tell a story. It seems to cheer the Demon up, and she smiles as the clasp soon begins to shine gold.

As the rag is set down, the song winds down, fading into a silence that is not uncomfortable. Jodariel places her clip back on her clothes as she looks to the Minstrel. “Thank you for the song.”

“You are welcome,” he says as she stands to put her things away. “It is a pleasure.”

“As is hearing the song,” she replies, heading out of the Common Room and into the Downside. Tariq starts to wonder if this is what the Scribes had wanted for the Nightwings, as opposed to the squabbling, untrusting Triumvirates of yore. He pushes the thought aside and gets to his feet, going outside to join the rest of the Nightwings for a story and some stargazing.


	3. Hedwyn

It’s a song to fill Hedwyn’s heart and drive him onwards.

Tariq finds the man on the edge of camp, looking wistfully at the Stars, although the Minstrel can only assume that Hedwyn is trying to look beyond them and to the Commonwealth where his life once was.

“Are you alright?” he asks, startling Hedwyn. The Nomad jumps, but he grins as he turns to see Tariq emerging from the bushes, Lute at the ready. “I heard you had left camp.”

Hedwyn laughs. “I am fine, friends. Merely homesick, and thinking about everything. We’re wrapped up in something far more grand than any of us, and I worry that we won’t make it out.”

Softly, the Minstrel rests a hand on Hedwyn’s shoulder, offering some comfort. “You shall all be free, in this I have faith.”

“Thank you Tariq. I appreciate it.” The Nomad turns his gaze to Tariq, catching the soft smile on his lips, before turning his attention back towards the sky. “Do you think I could ask for a song? The one you play in the Blackwagon, when we are tired and sore.”

“Surviving Exile,” Tariq fills in. “Fitting for the situation, if I dare say.”

There is no more words as Tariq strums away. The other instruments seem to appear from thin air, backing him up and completing the song. It makes Hedwyn feel easy, and when the song winds down, the Nomad stretches and turns towards the place they’ve made camp. “Thanks Tariq.”

“You are welcome,” the Minstrel asks, following behind as Hedwyn leads the way to the wagon. The song was for Hedwyn’s benefit, but Tariq finds solace in it too, and he idly strums it as they return to camp.


	4. The Moontouched Girl

“Mister? Would you, perhaps, play a song, for me to dance to?”

Tariq looks up from the small note he had been reading, something left by Oralech long ago, to see the Moontouched Girl standing before him, smiling down. Her red eyes would unnerve some others, but Tariq knows that his own are just as unsettling to those unprepared. He opens his eyes to look at her, and her smile grows wide, accompanied by a small gasp.

“What would you like to dance to, Madam?” he asks politely. The Moontouched Girl has several moods, and not all the music that the Minstrel knows can suit such an unpredictable and eccentric girl.

She tilts her head in thought for a moment. “Oh! I think, that perhaps, you wrote me a song? Yes! A song for me!”

The Minstrel knows what song she means. It is soft and peaceful, and he only tunes his Lute for a moment before playing, notes coming out gently. The Moontouched Girl gasps and dances on the spot excitedly for a moment before feeling herself become swayed by the ethereal tune. Her body moves slowly as she spins and twirls, arms moving elegantly as she conducts her little dance, a tribute to the Scribes and to the Minstrel himself. He is flattered, and he knows the Scribes do love her tributes, and so he plays for her until she finds herself content and finished, bidding him farewell with a laugh and a wave as she darts outside to find Ti’zo and explain what Gol Golathanian told her while she span.


	5. Pamitha

It’s a quiet night atop the Blackwagon when Pamitha lands beside the Minstrel. She is quiet as she takes a seat, and neither of them try to break the silence. All the other Exiles are trying to relax after a long Rite, and the Harp is among one of the most tired members of the Triumvirate.

“Can I perhaps offer you some comfort,” Tariq asks, turning the tuning peg of his lute. Pamitha softly hums to herself in thought. “I may not have much, but I could play you a song.”

The Harp laughs. “You have a song, Talon Sheath, you called it. Would you play it for me?” There is a smile on her face, exhausted but genuine, and the Minstrel musters the willpower to smile in return. His fingers pluck notes and soon, the song known as Talon Sheath makes its way through the night’s air. It soothes Pamitha despite its upbeat sound, and she tilts her head to the side, looking at Tariq. “Thank you.”

“It is my pleasure,” he answers, not missing a note as he looks away from the strings to speak. “Please, let yourself relax this fine night. We must move on at dawn.”

Pamitha nods. “I understand.” She lays on her back and watches the night’s Stars begin to fade, eyes shutting not long after the song has started. Still, Tariq does not stop. He enjoys this song, and if the Exiles are to ask him for a tune, then he insists he play it in full.


	6. Ti'zo

Ti’zo does not seek the Minstrel out. Instead, it is Tariq who goes in search of the Imp, finding him in the general sleeping quarters of the Blackwagon, nestled in some blankets. He takes a seat next to the Imp who softly chirps at his arrival.

“You were not in your nest,” Tariq says as he begins to play. It is a song he has written for Ti’zo long ago, and it holds much meaning to them both. “I had thought you would be there, or perhaps with the Drive-Imps in the centrifuge.”

A soft chirp tells Tariq that Ti’zo had wanted to snuggle somewhere warmer. Another expresses curiosity at the Minstrel playing his song, Flutter Fly, without request. Tariq merely smiles, strumming the notes with a hint more force, making the song more firm and real, as opposed to idly playing to fill the silence. “Perhaps you may find it amusing, but I found myself lonely.”

At this, Ti’zo leaps from his nest and snuggles into Tariq’s neck, making the Minstrel laugh ever so softly. Being in close proximity to the Imp soothes the Herald, and he opens his eyes for he feels comfortable doing so with Ti’zo. Flutter Fly is a bouncy little tune and Ti’zo doesn’t bother to question there the extra instruments are coming from. Instead he merely taps his claws to the beat, tickling the Minstrel’s skin.

“I apologize for bothering you,” the Minstrel says as he starts to wind down the song. Ti’zo chirps and coos in response, assuring Tariq that he is not bothering him, and in fact, that his company is always welcomed. It makes Tariq smiles, and he gives Ti’zo a scratch on the head, coupled with a dried out fish that he’d kept stored in a little bag, something the Imp takes quickly and scoffs down.

Tariq does try to leave, but Ti’zo insists he stay, and they spend the rest of the day in Ti’zo’s improvised nest, playing Flutter Fly and speaking of times long since passed when, perhaps, things were all going better between them all.


End file.
